


And What If I Like It?

by Ineffable_Idiot



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Established Relationship, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating will change, Scene: The Wall Slam in Tadfield Manor (Good Omens), Sexual Fantasy, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), Typical Crowley Noises, Wet Dream, yup we're doing this again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineffable_Idiot/pseuds/Ineffable_Idiot
Summary: "I'm a demon, I'm not nice."That's what he'd told Aziraphale, quite forcefully in fact. Then the moment was over, that was that. But after the Apocalypse That Never Was, Crowley can't help but think back to that day, and long to be called 'nice' again. Too bad he won't get on and just explain that to Aziraphale… Hopefully the angel will catch on.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 60





	And What If I Like It?

**Author's Note:**

> This is for all the wonderful people who've left comments on my last Wall Slam fics asking for more. Love you guys, and hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title is a line from "Liar" by Camila Cabello

"They're _murdering_ each other."

Crowley turned to look back at Aziraphale, who had stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the hall. The angel looked so distressed by what the humans were doing outside the manor, and for all his earlier smug satisfaction of giving the humans what they wanted, Crowley couldn't deny that this was maybe a bit too far. 

"No they aren't, no one's killing anyone," he assured. "They're all having miraculous escapes. It wouldn't be any fun otherwise." 

"Really?" Aziraphale asked, a careful hope flickering in his eyes. Crowley nodded, and the relief that flooded Aziraphale's features was almost enough to make him crack a fond smile. 

Almost.

A mere second later, that relief was replaced with a knowing grin as Aziraphale took a few steps closer.

"You know, Crowley, I've always said that deep down, you really are quite a nice..." 

No sooner had that word left Aziraphale's mouth, Crowley lunged forward, forcing the angel up against the nearest wall.

For centuries, he'd listened to Aziraphale's constant reminders that he was a demon.For millennia he'd been shown firsthand that demons were horrible, vile creatures, undeserving of even the notion that they could be more than that. And now, at the end of the bloody world, Aziraphale was going to go and call him _nice?_

He clenched the lapels of the coat he'd just miracled clean, hissing out a sharp "Ssshut it!"

While his sudden outburst did stop whatever Aziraphale had been about to say, _that word_ had already roused something deep inside Crowley. Not, as he quickly realized, anger at what the angel had called him, but something very different.

"I'm never _nice,"_ he ground out. "Nice is a four letter word, and I will _not_ have you saying I am anything of the sort. Understand, angel?" 

A moment passed, and Crowley eased his grasp on the coat, smoothing his hands over Aziraphale's shoulders to get the wrinkles he'd caused out. To his surprise, the gesture only drew a chuckle from Aziraphale.

"For someone who insists he's not nice," he began, and it was only when he glanced back up that Crowley realized the angel had been staring at his lips. "You're not doing a swell job proving it, dear."

Before Crowley could do more than let out a "Ngk," Aziraphale wrapped one palm around the demon's wrists and effortlessly pushed him backwards. Crowley stumbled back, and then around as Aziraphale maneuvered him as if he didn't weigh more than one of his plants.

In the blink of an eye, they'd switched positions, Crowley now the one flush between concrete and a determined-looking angel. His arms were pinned above his head in an unyielding grip, and Aziraphale's other hand rested on his waist, the angelic strength behind those hands fixing Crowley to the spot. 

Crowley sputtered out startled noises of protest at the sudden proximity. Sure, this was simply a reverse of how they'd just been, but he hadn't necessarily been paying attention to how close they were seconds ago.

It was all he could focus on now, though. He was surrounded, trapped by Aziraphale's warmth, unable to escape even if he wanted to, and really all he had to do was lean forward ever so slightly, and they would be... Their lips would...

"How can you possibly say you aren't nice?" 

Damn it to Hell and back, he was still on about that? Crowley was a _demon,_ a demon who should not be so flustered over a little manhandling, and _definitely_ not nice! 

"'S cause 'm not." He tried to pull his arms free on the 'not', but Aziraphale held fast. 

That feeling returned, the not-anger, and this time Crowley could pinpoint precisely what it was. It was arousal, burning pleasantly in the pit of his stomach. Being confronted by the angel he loved couldn't be called the opportune moment for such feelings, but there was no helping it.

"I'm _not,"_ he repeated, more a futile attempt to curb his lust than a refusal to Aziraphale.

"Oh, of course," Aziraphale said, though his voice showed clearly that he didn't believe it for a second. "What a terrible thing you've done, saving all these humans. And it was truly horrible of you to help me out of the Bastille so long ago, and to fix up my clothes here. Not to mention..."

"Ngh, alright. _Maybe_ I do nice things for y- from time to time," Crowley admitted. He'd given up trying to get out of Aziraphale's arms, as the squirming was doing nothing but adding more friction between their legs. "But that doesn't... That's not..."

Aziraphale was far too close to think straight, and the little touches he'd begun trailing up Crowley's side were going to drive him insane.

"Hmm, I don't know about that. With all you've done, I'm beginning to think you _want_ me to tell you how kind and generous you are."

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. 

All coherent thought in Crowley's mind slammed to a halt. No matter how hard he denied it, and he had denied it profusely since existence, he did want praise from Aziraphale, craved it, even. But he knew that was absolutely not something he should desire, it was better to just reject it like always. 

But when he opened his mouth to do just that, all that came out was a gasping, longing sigh. 

"Oh, you do!" Aziraphale chirped like the bastard he is. "Wonderful."

Crowley shook his head minutely, wishing the angel's tone didn't make him want to melt as much as it did. "'m not sssupposed to want... that."

"We're not 'supposed' to do a lot of the things we do," Aziraphale pointed out, slowly removing the sunglasses from Crowley's face and miracling them away. "I assure you there's nothing wrong with wanting this, my dear boy." 

In a way, it was a good thing Crowley was being held up by Aziraphale, for had he not been, he would've probably collapsed at the sheer adoration in those last three words.

"Angel...?" he breathed, unsure how to react. His body _ached_ with arousal, and he wanted to simultaneously disappear and spread his legs so Aziraphale could press against his effort, praising him through it. 

As if reading his mind, a gentle smile spread across Aziraphale's face as he pushed one knee between Crowley's with ease, his thigh providing just enough pressure to coax out a poorly suppressed moan from the demon.

"It's alright, love. You're so good, let go, won't you?" 

"Fuck, _angel,_ pleassse," Crowley hissed, lowering his head as his hips tentatively rocked forward. 

Aziraphale tilted his chin back up with the hand not holding up his wrists, pale blue eyes gazing into golden.

"There you are, you're exquisite."

With that, Aziraphale pressed his thigh up right as Crowley ground down again. The bolt of pleasure that shot down Crowley's spine spurred him awake with a gasp, eyes wide and heart pounding from the dream. He glanced around at his surroundings, which certainly wasn't the hall in Tadfield Manor, and caught back up to reality.

The End of the World hadn't happened months ago, and since then he and Aziraphale had moved in together. Their newfound freedom, and their relationship that had only grown from it was amazing, more than Crowley had thought they'd ever have. The only problem was that had not been the first dream of that nature since that day in Tadfield.

It wasn't as though Aziraphale didn't say kind things to him anymore, he did, often. It was just... somewhere along the line, Crowley had developed an interesting reaction to such words, leaving him hopelessly desperate for more. He would never reveal this, of course. He cherished his current relationship with Aziraphale, and would let Heaven freeze over before saying or doing anything that could ruin it.

And there was the problem. While he couldn't admit this aloud to Aziraphale, much less request him to act upon it, Crowley's psyche was more than happy to provide him with what he craved during his slumber. 

The angel, who'd only recently gotten into the habit of sleeping, slowly rose from his place next to Crowley, a bit confused at the sudden awakening. 

"Crowley, are you alright? It's terribly late."

The demon peered over his shoulder and nodded once, hoping through the dark Aziraphale couldn't see how flushed he must have been.

"Yep, yeah fine, angel. 's fine." His voice sounded strained, though it could've been perceived from lack of use while he slept, and not because of what it was he'd dreamt about. The bed dipped behind him as Aziraphale shifted, the movement let Crowley know exactly how wet he'd become. He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, only for them to fling wide open again when Aziraphale's arms circled around his chest.

"Bad dream, love?"

_"Mnhg."_

A hand rose to stroke and smooth out Crowley's hair, the likes of which did not help the demon's racing pulse whatsoever. "Would you like to talk about it?"

His first instinct was _no,_ absolutely do _not_ talk about it. But then again, what if he did? He _could_ tell Aziraphale about this dream and the ones before, about his hidden desire, relax in the angel's embrace and let Aziraphale kept drifting his fingers through his hair, whispering little praises and encouragements in his ear.

Or Aziraphale could call him out on his wants being ridiculous as they were, and everything could go to shit.

Sure, Crowley couldn't picture Aziraphale doing that in another six thousand years, but anything is possible to those under the starry cloak of night. This was not something he could deal with at three o'clock in the morning, and _Satan's fucking tits,_ did Aziraphale just press a kiss to his cheek?

No, no way he could deal with this now.

"Nope!" Hurriedly, Crowley wriggled out of Aziraphale's arms, flopped back onto the bed and yanked the covers up, feeling warm all over and still terribly aroused. 

"...Crowley?" Aziraphale questioned, taken aback. When no answer came from the demon, he hesitantly laid down behind his partner, vowing to ask about it in the morning. He reached out, rubbing up and down Crowley's back in a way he hoped would comfort him, until he fell back to sleep.

The intimacy ended up lasting an hour, and Crowley knew this because he didn't go back to sleep the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I celebrating the one-year anniversary of my first Wall Slam fic with another Wall Slam fic? Yes, yes I am.


End file.
